


I love you, Louis Tomlinson

by disastrous (wishingforlondon)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Attempted Rape, Crush, F/M, Gen, High School, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Unrequited Love, Wordcount: Over 1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 17:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishingforlondon/pseuds/disastrous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All he could hear, could feel, could smell, could breathe was <i>Louis</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I love you, Louis Tomlinson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StraightOnTilMorning (straightontilmorning)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/straightontilmorning/gifts).



> happy birthday, rae :) xx

If he was going to be quite honest with himself (which was his plan, but his plans never really followed through), then he knew he was doomed from the start. It wasn’t as much to do with the general _idea_ of being doomed (because it was an idea at first); it was to do with the actual, physical _state_ of being doomed (because that’s what it turned into).  
Whenever Harry thinks about it (which he does way, way too often for his liking, but whatever), he ends up forgetting everything else and becomes as a sexually frustrated teenage boy for a few days. And that _really_ screws up everything, because Zayn always goes on and on about how this can’t be healthy and that Harry should really see someone, and Niall just gets annoyed that no one is cooking food for him.  
But Harry really can’t help it because his eyes were _so damn beautiful_. They were sea green and picturesque and flawless and Harry could stare into them for hours and just float away. He could get lost in them, shipwrecked in them. He could live in them if he chose to, but he didn’t choose to because he knew he could never move out. And it’s not that he would ever _choose_ to leave (because he wouldn’t, and he and Zayn and Niall all knew that), it’s that he just didn’t want to end up as a loner. Again. Like last time (and the time before that and the time before that _and_ the time before that, as Niall so helpfully reminds him everyday when Harry is lying moaning on the couch in pure agony of being sexually deprived).  
He remembers the first time he ever saw them. It was the first day of school (or the first week or first month or first semester, something along those lines) and Louis was that new kid that for some reason everyone loves. For some reason luck was on his side that day and Harry was assigned the job of guiding Louis around school (which he didn’t have to do anyway, because Louis is so goddamn friendly and had already managed to find a group that was showing him around). So yeah, Harry’s first conversation with Louis was a total joke to basically half the school, but Harry really doesn’t mind, because he got to hear Louis talk (and he got to see those eyes that seem to constantly be on his mind). 

\--

“Hi, um, I’m Harry. I’m supposed to show you around the school today,” Harry stuttered, standing before the slightly shorter boy in the middle of the hallway after English class.  
“Oh!” Louis looked up. Harry blushed and looked down, hating to look people in the eye. “I, uh, didn’t know that. My friends already offered to show me around and I said yes, so uh, sorry.”  
“That’s fine,” Harry responded, finally looking at the boy. “If, you, uh, have any questions--”  
“I’ll let you know! Sounds great, mate! I’m Louis, by the way. See you around?” Louis grinned, waving at Harry, before walking away and joining his newfound friends.  
Harry stood there for a few minutes until the bell rang, in a daze. Those eyes were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

\--  
“Harry Edward Styles, if you don’t get your curly haired ass off that sofa this instant, I swear to God that I will burn each and every one of your Coldplay albums.”  
Harry groaned, turning his head and squinting at the incoming light from the kitchen. “Zayn, your dick’s hair is curly too, so shut up and leave me alone.”  
“I don’t need a bloody health lesson, Styles. I’m not 12. Niall’s hungry, I want my sofa back, and you sure as hell need a shower,” Zayn snapped, turning on the light and ignoring Harry’s half hearted pleas. “Up you get, it’s after 11.”  
“Only 11? Why am I waking up now?”  
“Because you’ve been asleep for the last like three days, you blithering idiot. Now stop being a teenage girl and go make Niall some food, he won’t shut up.”  
“I hate you,” glared Harry, rolling off of the sofa on his face. Zayn laughed. “Oh, shove off. Which way is the kitchen again?”  
“You know, it’s funny, mate, it really is. You’re in love with one of the most coordinated blokes in the year, but you fall on your face twice a day.”

\--

He swears to every kind person he’s ever known (so, basically, his mum, sister, Niall’s mum, Zayn’s mum, and Zayn’s sisters) that he didn’t want anyone to know. He was not (contrary to popular belief, also known as Niall and Zayn and their large, protruding noses) parading around with a sign declaring “I LOVE LOUIS TOMLINSON.” He was not showing up to school naked with Louis’s face tattooed on his ass. He didn’t even have a tattoo on his ass -- and he’d never shown up to school naked either (yet. They still had a few months left of school). He also didn’t think that Zayn even had the right to be pestering him about being in love or being in like or whatever the hell he was in (denial?).  
It was obvious to everyone (except for, well, you know, Louis) that Harry Styles was in love with Louis Tomlinson and had been ever since he had laid eyes on him. It was obvious to Harry that Zayn was in love with Liam Payne (who was Louis’s best friend, something that Niall constantly found hilarious) and therefore he found it extremely hypocritical for Zayn to be teasing him about Louis. It’s not like Zayn cared, though, because he didn’t.  
But Harry did care. He, unlike Zayn, actually had emotions, and could sympathize with people. He could listen. He did listen -- he listened attentively to Louis droning on and on about football every day, although he really detested football. He listened attentively to Niall moaning on and on about how unfair it was that they were no longer allowed food during technology (although, that was actually Niall’s fault, because he got peanut butter all over the computer keyboard one day). He listened attentively to Zayn complaining on and on about how Harry really needed to get laid or needed to go to a therapist (which apparently resulted in being laid. Harry didn’t really get it).  
Harry didn’t really know what he was wishing for. Maybe he was hoping that some alien would fall from the sky and Louis would be so frightened that he’d run over and snog Harry senseless. Maybe he was dreaming that Louis would get his hands on some Amortentia or something and realize that it smelled _exactly_ like Harry Styles to him. Maybe he was wishing that Louis would just notice him again. 

\--

862 days (or 74,476,800 really, really, really long minutes) after Harry Styles had last spoken to Louis Tomlinson he spoke to him again. It wasn’t exactly by free will, unless they wanted to complete their report on Oscar Wilde without speaking to each other. But they did talk (well, Louis did. Harry tried not to pass out) and they agreed to meet in the library after school to start working, which is where Harry found himself now, walking towards Louis.  
“Hey,” Harry whispered, conscious of the librarian staring at him with hawkeyes.  
“Hi!” Louis whispered back, looking up at Harry, grinning.  
“So... where do we start?”  
“I, um, pulled a few of his works from the shelves, if you don’t mind. I thought we could both read _The Importance of Being Earnest_ , since it’s like one of his most famous works. And then we could both read _The Picture of Dorian Gray_ , if you want, because that’s his only novel and it’s absolutely fascinating and I read it earlier this year but I’d definitely read it again and--”  
“I’ve, uh, already read it,” Harry broke in, blushing.  
“Really?” Louis asked in amazement.  
“Yeah, I, uh, got bored this summer. It was really good. I think it’s one of my favourite novels of all time.”  
“I’ve never met anyone else who’s read it. What’s your favourite line from it? I like ‘they get up early, because they have so much to do, and go to bed early, because they have so little to think about’ a lot because it like... it just speaks to me, y’know?”  
“Yeah... I, uh... ‘we live in an age that reads too much to be wise, and that thinks too much to be beautiful’ is a really good line. Because like, that’s us, isn’t it? Or at least me. Like, I read too much but I don’t know enough, and I think too much about, uh, everything to be deemed attractive to the world? I guess. I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it,” Harry blushed, slightly annoyed at himself for sharing his unfounded opinion.  
“I get it,” Louis nodded. “I’ve never met anyone else who enjoyed reading, you know. All of my friends just like playing football and getting into trouble, and it’s just a nice breath of fresh air.”  
“Right back at you,” Harry responded, looking up and grinning at Louis, who grinned back.  
Three weeks later, they turned in the paper, and continued to not speak to each other.

\--

73 days later (or 6,307,200 really, really, really long minutes), Harry was pretty sure that his love life was completely and utterly doomed. Zayn found this enjoyable. Of course, he would. Zayn (much to Harry’s annoyment and Niall’s amusement) had found love with one Liam Payne, and would never been seen without him. The only good thing about this whole arrangement was that sometimes Harry would see Louis. That didn’t mean that he spoke to him (because he didn’t, duh), but he got to see him and he got to receive his necessary daily dose of beautiful, sea green eyes.  
Sometimes Harry fantasized of he and Louis having a moment. Maybe they kissed in the rain, or they made love on the beach, or they stared up at the stars and talked all night long. He knew it wouldn’t happen, but, in a way, that’s sort of what made him love those fantasies so much more. They were his. He didn’t have to share them. He could keep them tucked away in the back of his mind for those rainy, dank days that came all too often. 

\--

The funny thing about this new development between Zayn and Liam was that whenever Zayn was invited to parties - which was a lot more now, come to think of it - he would drag Harry along too. And Harry wasn’t really one for social gatherings, to be honest. He preferred sitting at home with a cup of tea, reading. He didn’t really have a choice, though. As Zayn’s best friend, it was his responsibility.  
In mid-April, Harry found himself at one such party, surrounded by dozens of wasted students who he’d grown up with. He saw Zayn and Liam snogging across the room, praying that they would find a room before they successfully stripped each other (they’d been trying for about 10 minutes now, but didn’t seem to be doing very well). He could see Niall chatting up some blonde girl that Harry had never seen before, but he seemed to be doing quite well, so Harry turned around and started walking upstairs, hoping to find some quiet up there.  
Harry walked down the hallway, keeping his eyes straight ahead so as to not see the snogging, half naked couples that lined the hallway - the precise reason why he didn’t go to parties such as these. Eventually, Harry found himself in front of a room that appeared to be empty. He went in, and sat on the bed, waiting. Waiting for what, he didn’t know, but he sat there, unmoving, until he heard a voice from the doorway.  
“Hey, sweet cheeks, what brings you here?” slurred a voice that Harry recognized, but couldn’t place. He looked up, alarmed.  
“What?”  
“I asked you what you’re doing here,” the guy responded, face covered in shadow as he closed the door behind him and walked towards Harry slowly. Harry sat still, frozen in fear.  
“Um... I’m waiting for my friends. Yeah. My friends.”  
“What friends?” the unrecognizable figure drawled, pushing Harry back and climbing on top of him.  
“What are you doing?” Harry asked fearfully as he tried to resist the man’s actions. His resistance was futile, though, as he felt his hands being forcefully held above his head.  
“Shh, babe,” the man murmured soothingly. “Just enjoy yourself,” he added, placing his lips on Harry’s. Harry struggled to get them off, but was once again overcome as the man’s tongue found itself inside his mouth.  
Harry continued to fight assaulter fruitlessly, before running out of energy and giving up. Tears were streaming down his face as he felt the man slowly unbutton his trousers and boxers and pull them down. He gasped at the sudden loss of material, before he felt the man’s tongue in his mouth again. He had just given up again, finding it pointless, when he felt the weight being taken off of him.  
He immediately curled up in a ball and started sobbing, forgetting the fact that he was half naked. He distinctly heard a familiar voice shouting at someone to get out (“and stay out!”) before he felt arms wrap around him. He moved towards the warm embrace, and started sobbing into the person’s shirt.  
“Harry...” the person muttered dejectedly, as if they were broken by the recent events too. Harry cried harder. “Harry, it’ll be okay. He’s gone. I’ve got you, Haz, I’ve got you.”  
And throughout the night, Harry’s hero never left his side. He didn’t realize until the next morning when he woke up in an empty bed that his hero was Louis.

\--

Whatever Harry hoped for, he didn’t get it. He worked persistently to make sure that no one knew what had happened at that party - not even Zayn and Niall. He didn’t want them to feel guilty about not hanging out with him at the party, for not being there to prevent what had happened. He refused to talk to Louis, though. He couldn’t face staring into those blue eyes, seeing the disappointment that was certainly visible within them.  
For Zayn and Niall’s part, they weren’t completely ignorant. They knew something had happened, they just didn’t know what. With Liam’s help, they had tried to get it out of Louis, but he wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t his to share, apparently. If they wanted to know, they had to ask Harry, and nowadays, Harry was more of a brick wall than anything else.  
Every day, Harry looked at his calendar, as if counting down to the end of the world. And it was the end of the world, as he knew it. Three weeks... two weeks... one week... and then it was the next day: graduation day.

\--

“And so, as you go on to university, I beg all of you to remember each other, and to remember that you will always have a home here at school. Thank you, and good luck!” concluded the headmistress, smiling with tears in her eyes at the sea of students that sat before her. The audience applauded politely, before standing up and stretching, thankful that the ceremony was over.  
Harry stood up and looked around, searching for Zayn and Niall. He could feel Louis’s eyes on him, but he ignored them. It didn’t mean anything. Louis probably thought he was worthless now, broken. Spotting Zayn a few aisles away, he shoved former classmates to the side as he sprinted over to him and jumped up onto him from behind.  
“Who is--oh, hey Haz!” Zayn looked around confused, before spotting the curly haired boy.  
“You up for drinks?”  
“Yeah, definitely. Let’s go find Niall. Is it alright if Liam comes? I just want to spend time with him before we go off to school on different sides of the country.”  
“Zayn, mate, you have all summer. And you’re going to Cambridge, he’s going to Oxford. You’re like, what, an hour apart? You’ll manage.”  
“Please?”  
“Yeah, sure, fine. I’ll go find Niall.”  
10 minutes later, the group of boys found themselves walking towards the student parking lot for the last time. Laughing and pushing each other, they reminisced about the memories of the past four years when they heard a shout from behind them.  
“Harry!” yelled a familiar voice to them all. “Harry, wait up! I need to talk to you!”  
Harry turned around, and stared at Louis, who was sprinting at full speed towards him. He told the others to keep walking, he’d catch up, before and stopped and waited for Louis.  
“What’s up?” he asked, starting to walk again. Louis grabbed his arm in order to stop him, before standing right in front of him and looking up at him.  
“Why have you been avoiding me?”  
“I haven’t been avoiding you...”  
“Yes, you have, Harry, and don’t try to say you haven’t.”  
“Look, Louis...”  
“Normally, Harry, when people go through a traumatic experience, they want to talk to people. I would’ve talked to you, if you’d wanted to talk to me. But you didn’t.”  
“I’m well aware, Louis.”  
Louis took a step back, a look of hurt etched upon his face. “Nevermind then, Harry. I’ll see you around then, I guess?”  
“Yeah, have a good summer,” Harry responded, breaking eye contact and starting to walk away from the boy he’d loved since he’d first met him. He didn’t get far, though, when he heard a voice calling out his name again.  
“What, Lou--” began Harry, suddenly cut off by a pair of lips crashing onto his own. Overcoming his shock after a minute, he began to kiss back, oblivious to the gasps and stares of the surrounding crowd. All he could hear, could feel, could smell, could breathe was _Louis_.  
Louis broke away first, ignoring the hoots and hollers of Liam, Zayn, and Niall. “That was nice,” he grinned, looking up at Harry.  
Harry looked down at him, a smile forming on his face. “Yeah, it was.”  
Louis poked his dimple. “You say that like you’ve had better snogs.”  
“Oh, no, never,” Harry responded cheekily.  
“Well, I’d better beat them, then,” Louis smirked, leaning up and placing his lips on Harry’s again.  
Harry grinned into the kiss, and chuckled when he felt Louis grinning too. This summer was going to be the best ever.


End file.
